


Legacy

by kesomon



Category: Green Hornet - All Media Types, The Lone Ranger - All Media Types
Genre: Blink And You Miss It Slash, Gen, M/M, Reincarnation, Spirits, ambiguous timeline, legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesomon/pseuds/kesomon
Summary: The Ranger and Tonto. The Hornet and Kato.Theirs is a legacy that will never die.





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the span of watching Disney's The Lone Ranger, which immediately began pressing ALL my Green Hornet buttons. You can read it as slash if you squint, if you like.
> 
> Can I say that I LOVE how it is Established Canon that John Reid and Britt Reid are related?
> 
> This is ambiguous timeline and ambiguous canon, but heavily drawn on the characters and lore as portrayed by Armie Hammer and Johnny Depp. As for Britt and Kato, same deal, but drawing heavily on the Reid and Kato family trees as described in Now Comics' Green Hornet series, where the name and legacy of vigilantism and partnership have been passed down over both families since the Lone Ranger's time. Imagine your portrayals of choice for them.

“The spirits say I would meet one who was spirit-touched, one who would help me on my quest and I on theirs...” Dark eyes framed in white clay flicked across the fire to gaze with no small amusement at the grubby, somewhat bloodied individual. “Of all people, I did not want it to be you.”

“I’ve heard this one before,” the other said, Texan accent wry and worn, pale blue eyes glittering in the firelight from behind a mask of black leather. “Still think the spirits are stupid?”

“Hm.” The first man mused, tipping his head back and forth, and then smiled, teeth flashing. “I have still to make up my mind,  _Kemosabe_.”

“Yeah, well,” the second said, taking a pull from a tarnished flask, “I think they chose right. Lord knows I wouldn’t have made it this far without you and Silver, Tonto.”

“Yes,” Tonto agreed sagely, nodding his head. “You would’ve been dead long ago.”

The man in the mask took his hat off and whapped his companion across the arm. “Hey, who saved who’s life today, heh?”

“Luck.” Tonto sniffed, smile fading to gaze mysteriously into the darkness. “Luck of the spirits,  _Kemosabe._  You have their blessing and their curse. Unable to die in battle, for you are already a spirit yourself.”

“I’m not immortal. I’m just a ghost story. It was your idea to wear the mask.” The man replaced his hat upon his head and fidgeted, moving fingers to brush the border of black leather and pale, begrimed skin - but lowered his hand without doing anything else.

_Never remove the mask._  Without it, he was not the Ranger, nightmare of outlaws. Only John Reid, ghost of the past.

“Never said _immortal_ ,” Tonto said, with the disparaging tone of ‘ _stupid white man_ ’ not quite overwhelming fondness. “Only unable to die in battle.” When John turned his head, Tonto smiled, tipping his head. “I would not permit it.”

John dipped his head, quietly embarrassed, and passed the flask to his friend. “You’re good people, Tonto.”

“And you, John Reid.” The flask was accepted, a mouthful taken.

John accepted it back, staring into the flickering embers before them.

“Of course....” the Comanche said thoughtfully after a long moment, tilting his head, “when you die - not in battle of course -”

“Of course,” John echoed in a sarcastic mutter, rolling his eyes.

“- I will make my case to the spirits. They are very stupid at times, after all.” The man nodded to himself. “Imagine them letting you wander off through the spirit world alone. You would be eaten by wendigos in an instant.”

“Wendigos aren’t  _real_ -” John huffed under his breath, and then did a double-take with an indignant, “I would not get  _eaten instantly_ , I have learned how to _defend myself_ since we met- wait, why am I arguing this?” He sat up straighter. “I’d be dead. You can’t talk to a dead man any more than you can talk to a dead horse.”

“You talk so much alive I do not see why you would stop in death,” Tonto teased, continuing decisively, “I will speak to spirits. Watch your back in afterlife.”

“What, forever?” John asked, back to amusement as he took another sip from his flask. “It’d get pretty tedious, I think. I’d like to spend my afterlife as peaceful as possible.”

“Trouble follows you everywhere, spirit-walker,” Tonto refuted. “You think you escape it in death? Guarantee it follows you to the next life.”

John chuckled and shook his head. “Okay then. You deal with your spirits. And when - if - I ever get resurrected or reborn or whatever the  _‘spirits’_  do with me, and have to save your butt from trouble, I reserve rights to say ‘I told you so.’”

Tonto mused over this with a face like he was sucking on a lemon.

“Fine,” he said, and extended a fist filled with birdseed. John reached out his hand, letting the grains fall into his palm. Rolled them among his fingers for a moment. Then, together, the two men tossed their handfuls into the fire. Embers spat and sparked into the night sky, swirling upwards in a double helix of light.

 

Another time, another place. A man reaches out a hand to another from where he’d fallen. The backs of the thugs who’d put him there are scattering to the winds, driven off with angry shouts and application of fisticuffs. Dark, slim eyes stare up from a pale, dust-covered face. Blue eyes, twinkling from under a pale canvas hat, gaze back.

“Britt Reid,” the standing man introduces himself, and smiles with familiar-not-familiar fondness.

“Ikano Kato,” the man on the ground returns, and takes the hand.

In the distance, a crow calls.

 

_Hi-ho Silver._


End file.
